


Andromeda

by Softsangster



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Constellations, Cute, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Smut, a lot of rambling, brenda and teresa are tough gfs, high school!au, newt's a new kid, poly!minho, slowish burn, soft!thomas, space, thomas has a lil crush on aris, thomas is a space nerd, thomas loves the stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softsangster/pseuds/Softsangster
Summary: Thomas loves the stars and everything unearthly, but he seems to love Newt just that little bit more.





	1. Unearthly

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to that wonderful anon who left me this prompt and inspired a whole fic!

Everything unearthly captivated Thomas. Yeah, sure, the earth was cool and there was still so much to learn about it, but it was the stars and planets he didn’t live on that seemed to grab ahold of his curiosity. The vastness of the universe, the abundance of stars littered across earth’s sky and the unexplored, but known planets that made him wonder and stare at the sky in awe. Thomas wasn’t sure when he started to sit at his window, around about midnight of every night, just staring up at the sky. Sometimes he wasn’t thinking of anything and sometimes he would be thinking of everything there possibly was to think about; the meaning of life, the real purpose of humans, religion, why on earth some people refused to be good people, and more importantly, aliens.

Thomas knew that somewhere, out in the wide, vast space, there was more life. There had to be. He felt that it would be selfish to think humans were the only ones, as if humans weren’t selfish enough. Not to mention the many studies proving that there are other earth like planets that could or could’ve held life before and that really excited Thomas because he loved the idea of aliens and maybe one day meeting one, if he hadn’t already met one.

Now because Thomas was smart, he didn’t give into those silly hollywood aliens that were a slimy green with big, grey, oval eyes. To him, they were probably just like humans, though, very smart. Like, we’re talking, aliens that are light years ahead of humans in the way they think, talk, dress, act, and live. But then again, hollywood could be right. Maybe aliens did look like big headed bits of slimy celery with two, oddly large eyes and tiny little, pinched mouths.

Thomas would love to meet an alien.

 

Looking down at the open book in front of him, Thomas was staring at the same constellations that he’d read over before, memorising the page. He wasn’t too good at pointing out the stars and constellations in the night sky, one, because it was easier to gaze where there was less unnatural light and two, because there’s so many damn stars, he gets a bit. . . Confused. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at naming off the constellations that were in that book or on the posters he’d had hung up and stared at everyday before he went to school, since he was 8 years old.

“Nerding out again, huh?”

Shifting his gaze to beside him, Thomas frowned at Minho, who was smirking right back at him. His black hair had been freshly cut and was styled into a very fashionable quiff, as his dark eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“I’m not ‘nerding out’, Minho. Just killing time.” Thomas huffed and rolled his eyes, returning to the open book that lay out in front of him.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas. You could be out practicing for track instead of reading-” Minho snatched the book right from under Thomas’ nose, earning him a soft ‘hey’ from the boy who didn’t even bother to try to get the book back. “Constellations and the wonders of Astronomy. Who even reads this bullshit, anyways?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Thomas yanked the book from Minho’s tight grip and slid it into his backpack. “Me. I read this bullshit, Minho. It’s interesting. And anyways, I’m not doing track this year.”

“Wait, what? No, Thomas, ya gotta do it dude! We’re the two best runners on the team! We’re the reason this school wins competitions!” 

Standing up from the table he was sat at, Thomas slung his school bag over his shoulder, pushed his chair in and started walking. He knew that Minho would follow him. Of course he would. He seemed to have a lot to say and Thomas knew that he wouldn’t hear the last of this until he joined the school’s track team, which he did not want to do.

Track was tiring and somewhat boring, now. It took up too much of Thomas’ time and it left his body aching when he woke up, before he would spend a day at school where he walked around and barely got time to relax his muscles, before he then spent a large chunk of his afternoon at the school running track. Thomas also had to stick to a diet― yeah sure it kept him healthy and whatnot, but there were times where he just wanted that extra greasy cheeseburger, or that last mouthwatering piece of double chocolate cake with extra chocolate sprinkles on top without feeling guilty knowing that he was going to have to train twice as hard just to work it off.

“Minho, c’mon man. You know how much I hated it-”  
“Yeah,” Minho kept at a steady pace beside Thomas, as they strolled out of the school library and towards their first class of the day which was Math. A subject that Thomas despised because it was just so damn confusing. “But you were good at it. That’s what really counts here.”

Thomas let out a curt and stiff laugh at Minho’s reply.

“So it doesn’t matter whether I like it or not?”

“Fuck no, dude! You know I hate track, but with us being on the track team, we’re basically doing them a favour by just showing up.” Minho bragged, but he wasn’t wrong. Ever since both he and Thomas joined the school’s track team, they started gathering more and more wins, trophies and donations which would go towards the school’s phys ed programme. Sure, there were a few other runners that were okay, but Minho and Thomas stood out from the rest. Well, minus Ben, another stand out runner.

Thomas didn’t feel as if he needed to say anything, so he just nodded as if he cared and sauntered into the classroom. He took his seat at the front, as minho took his only a few behind Thomas. They could be sitting together, but the teacher got annoyed with their loud teasing and running around the room when they should’ve been practicing for a test. So, she moved them and made sure that they didn’t have not one interaction during that class and didn’t hesitate to throw an after school detention at the both of them if they just made eye-contact.

With a huff, Thomas sat at his desk and whipped out his math book, before then resting his elbow on the desk and his head in his hand, ready to dream away this period. Maybe that’s why he struggled so much; because he just couldn’t seem to get his head out of the clouds and focus on what was really important, instead of daydreaming about the stars and what it would be like in space. But before he could fully zone out, a certain someone caught his attention as they walked through the door, right as the bell rang.

Aris Jones.

God, Aris Jones was Thomas’ crush since the first year of high school. They’d not once held a proper conversation, but everything about Aris just seemed so gentle and lovely and Thomas really did adore that. Not as much as he did the stars, but Aris was right up there on his list of loves and favourite things.

Awkwardly, Thomas waved at the boy. He expected a wave or smile back from Aris, but he instead got it from the boy behind him. It was a small, uncertain wave, accompanied by a tight lipped smile, as if it was intended for him. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows because he didn’t even know who this kid was, so he sure as hell wasn’t waving to him, but he just nodded and looked away quickly. Thomas hated to be rude, but he was bit upset that Aris didn’t get to wave at him, and instead got noticed by some lanky, blonde kid behind him.

Returning to his resting position, Thomas watched from the corner of his eye as the lanky blonde moved across the classroom to some place behind him. After a moment of quiet, he heard a loud laugh from Minho and some muffled words, causing a smirk to break out over his face, before the teacher stood from her desk and stared the boy down. The class was silent after that.

 

Coming home from school to an empty, but warm house helped Thomas to relax after being gunned down by Minho and his constant need to bring up track again. So during their break Thomas made the decision to stay in the library and read away, sneaking bits of food into his mouth every now and again, doing his best not to get caught. Thankfully, he didn’t get caught and managed to make it to classes unscathed. Though, more than once, Thomas saw that lanky blonde in the halls with Aris, hell, Thomas even spotted him with Minho.

He tried racking his brain as to who the hell that could be because he was sure that he knew who was in his math class by heart, but obviously he didn’t. He mustn’t have been new because his teacher didn’t bother with introductions, meaning that everyone probably already knew who he was. Everyone but Thomas.


	2. Space Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Space Boy. . ."

“Hey, Minho. . .” Thomas panted out.

“Yeah?

“Who’s that new kid― What the fuck, Teresa? I told you that I wasn’t playing anymore!” Thomas wheezed out, after getting hit in the shoulder by a hard netball. 

“What?” Minho shook his head and picked up the ball that hit Thomas, lobbing it back to Teresa and snickering when it flew just above her head, leaving her to chase after it like a headless chicken.

“Ya know? That blonde kid in our math class yesterday. He walked in with Aris.” 

Turning to face Thomas with a cheeky smirk, Minho raised an eyebrow and started to dance around Thomas, fanning himself and batting his eyelashes. “Ooo, Aris Jones~”

Thomas huffed and folded his arms across his chest. He really regretted telling Minho about the thing he had for Aris. Hell, he regretted telling all of his friends because they all had the same reaction of teasing Thomas ‘til he was either beet red or ‘til he left the room a flustered mess.

“Answer my question please, Minho.” Thomas huffed out, taking a seat at the sideline, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to see if their PE teacher was looking and thankfully she wasn’t.

“What makes you think I know him?” Minho watched over the intense game of netball that was taking place in front of them, his hands rested on his hips. His gaze seemed distant, but Thomas chose to ignore that, as he punched the boy’s muscly thigh. “Fine. His name is Newt. He’s from England and he’s Aris’ step brother. Said he hates this place already.”

Thomas let out a hum of acknowledgement and frowned.

Newt. What an odd name. It was so odd that Thomas had to bite his lip to keep a smile from off his face. He didn’t mean to want to laugh, but it was the oddest name Thomas had ever come across from someone at his school. Though, it sure was a whole lot more creative than ‘Thomas’ and interesting too, so maybe this Newt kid might reflect his name and be just as interesting or he could be the complete opposite and have a personality that was as exciting as a brick.

“He sat with us yesterday at lunch, but you fucked off before you could even meet him.” Minho added on, causing Thomas to glance up the boy.

“He did?” 

“Yeah. Brenda and Teresa can’t get enough of him, so he’s gonna sit with us ‘til he finds another group or until Brenda gets pissed at him because he says something she doesn’t like.” The pair shared a look before bursting out into breathless laughter at the last part of Minho’s statement. It reminded Thomas of a time when a kid named Jared sat with them. Everything was going great; he was funny, charming, and witty, but he said one small remark about Teresa and Frypan that rubbed Brenda up the wrong way. And before everyone knew it, he was out of the group, blocked on all social medias and never spoken to again by any one of the members of their little, but very exclusive, friendship ‘circle’.

“Good luck to that poor kid,” Thomas huffed out another small laugh. “Doesn’t take much to piss Brenda off.”

“Yeah. . .” Minho nodded, sent Thomas a grin before jogging back into the netball game.  
Thomas let out a short breath and tilted his head up to the sky. He knew it was a bad idea because at anytime, he could get lobbed in the face by a ball, but he just couldn’t resist. So, the brown haired boy squinted his eyes and stared right up at the cloudy sky, wishing for it to rain so he could sleep easier and dream more for when he was at home, but also so his mum could pick him from school instead of him having to walk home.

 

 

Humming a soft tune to himself, one that was offkey and probably sounded terrible to everyone else, Thomas rummaged through his locker. He flipped through pages of his binder and scanned over crumpled bits of paper, trying to find an important piece of homework for English that he’d spent the whole weekend on. It was some bullshit essay about a book he read (and didn’t enjoy the slightest), and what the main theme was, the importance of it and all the stuff he didn’t understand, yet jot down anyways.

A wave of panic overcame Thomas, as he kept rummaging through his almost empty locker. He continued this until he remembered that he had in fact left his essay, nice ‘n’ neat on his desk. “Fuck.”

“Well hello to you, too.”

Thomas spun on his heels, concern and worry evident on his face, but Brenda just grinned brightly at the boy. His frown deepened when he stared at Teresa, Brenda and that lanky boy, Newt, who all had smiles plastered on their faces, ignoring the fact that he was anything but chipper. Well, Newt’s smile seemed more forced and nervous, which was understandable with him being the ‘new kid’ and all.

Thomas remembered how terrified he was to start high school. Now, when Thomas gets nervous he gets a little. . . clumsy and his mental filter just seems to disappear. So, with his nerves getting the best of him, Thomas had managed to offend his now group of friends, before then tripping over his own two feet resulting in a twisted ankle and very, very red cheeks. He kind of envied Newt for keeping his cool and for not managing to make a fool out of himself.

“I left my english essay at home. . . God, I’m gonna fail this year.” Thomas sighed, slamming his locker closed and throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

“Oh boo hoo, Tom. You’re one of the smartest kids here and not to mention, the teacher’s favourite.” Teresa teased, her arm wrapped tightly around Brenda’s waist. “I’m sure you can go like, this one time off without homework.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Thomas huffed.

They all started walking down the corridor, with Thomas squashed in between Brenda and Newt.

Now, Newt stood a bit over Thomas, his shaggy blonde hair falling perfectly over his forehead. He looked awkward and lanky, which amused Thomas. Newt was fairly pale, with dark, dark brown eyes that held a special, little glint in them every time Thomas looked up at him. He looked young and to be quite honest, he was beyond good looking; Thomas couldn’t spot a single flaw on Newt’s face, which meant, most likely, there was something wrong with his personality. Thomas went through a list of potential list of flaws, snobbish, demanding, rude, or just plain dry and humorless.

“You like space?”

Thomas turned his head up to Newt when he heard his thickly accented voice speak, though, ever so softly.

“Space? As in the stars, space?” Thomas asked lamely.

“Mhm. Outerspace. Minho told me that you liked the stars and stuff. Well, I mean, I’m just guessing that you’re the Thomas he was talkin’ about.” Newt rambled on.

He’s cracking already, Thomas thought with an amused frown.

“Yup. That’s me,” Thomas smiled stiffly, as he took a seat at the cafeteria table with Newt finding a seat right next to him. In Minho’s seat, but Thomas wasn’t gonna say anything. Newt was going to find things out the hard way; the way Thomas had learnt. “Space is pretty cool ‘n’ stuff. . . You like it?”

“Space Boy.” Newt placed his saddle bag on the ground next to him, whilst he muttered that to himself, as if testing out how it felt on his tongue and in his mouth. He then looked up at Thomas, now realising what he had said out loud, he dropped his gaze gingerly at the table. “Uh, yeah I like it. I’m not like a fanatic or anything, but I like it.”

Not feeling to need to say much more, Thomas turned away from Newt and listened in on his friend’s conversation about if everyone actually had boobs or not. It was an odd topic, but it was no weirder than what they’d spoken about before. So, no one batted an eyelid and acted unfazed, ignoring the fact that Newt hadn’t said a word, but was instead quitely eating away at a homemade salad with his eyes trained on a book in front of him.

Newt stayed quiet for the remainder of lunch and no one bothered to try turn conversation on him, not even Thomas made a fuss over him, guessing that he would leave soon. So, when Thomas went to English, then math class, without seeing Minho any time during lunch, he just up and left Newt to stumble cluelessly around the school until he had found the right class.

Fortunately for Thomas, he had managed to gain a small ‘hi’ from Aris when he walked into the math classroom, causing his heart to go absolutely wild. God, he felt a high that stuck with him until he’d gone home that day, with thoughts of Aris swirling into his blissful thoughts about the stars.

Space Boy, he was.


	3. Old Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the shittiest chapter by far, but i promise to do Aris justice further on!

The air between them was tense. Newt could just feel it. He knew that Aris didn’t like him the minute they met, not only by his childish outbursts but by the fact that he loudly declared his dislike for Newt and his mother after they had eaten their first meal as a ‘family’ together. Newt was well taken aback as was his mother, who almost burst out into tears, because Aris didn’t know how much she loved his dad and how much it actually took for the both of them to leave everyone and everything they had back in England. He didn’t know. He never would. Of course he wouldn’t.

Though, as much as Aris didn’t like Newt, the Brit still made a conscious effort to be nice to him, or his mother would clip him around the ears.

“So,” Newt broke the tense silence and walked awkwardly next to the boy. “What do you have first period?”

“Art.” Aris said, accompanied by a sigh. He kept his head down and his eyes trained on his old, dirty, bright pink sneakers. Long tufts of hair fell over his face, as if to shield him from the world.

From what Newt had learnt, after spending a few weeks with the boy and his family, is that he’s reserved. The only person he really seems to talk to is his dad and his friends, but even then, he seems closed off and distant. It confused Newt because the first week they were together, Aris was constantly at their throats, asking Newt and his mother when they were going home, but then suddenly, as if he’d been possessed, Aris shut right up. Maybe his dad talked to him or he finally realised that Newt and his mum weren’t going anywhere. Well, not until his mum found a new man and left Aris’ dad in the dust.

“You’re quite the talker, aren’t ya?” Newt let out a breathless laugh, lightly teasing Aris. But the boy just huffed. “Yknow, I prefer it when you were yellin’ at us ‘n all. Least I knew then that you weren’t a bloody mute.”

Aris didn’t say anything.

He just kept walking.

Newt rolled his eyes and gripped the straps of his backpack. “That Thomas kid. . . Minho told me that he likes you. . . He seems pretty nice.”

The boy was completely stuck for anything to say, but he regretted bringing up Thomas’ crush because he wasn’t sure whether Thomas was secretive about his feelings for Aris or didn’t care who knew. All he knew is that Thomas was cute, gay and had a massive crush on his step-brother. That was it. Also that he loved space more than he loved the land he walked on, almost as if he would much rather be floating around in the stars and galaxies, rather than being stuck walking the same cement paths and lying in the same goddamn bed every night.

“I know.” Aris hmmed, picking up his head as they neared the school. “But I’m straight. He seems nice and all, but I prefer girls.”

“Ah, nice. He’s probably gonna be a bit disappointed to hear that, huh?” Newt laughed stiffly. “Well, I prefer girls and boys and everyone in between-”

“I was told that you’ll fuck anything that moves.” The seemingly shy boy butted in.

Taken aback, Newt blinked a few times and frowned deeply. Yes, he did have a habit of sleeping around with a lot of people and he wasn’t ashamed of that at all, in fact he enjoyed it and the partners he’d been with, of course he did, but there was just something in the way that Aris had said it. Like he was holding it against him.

“Pardon me?” Newt hadn’t told him about what he was like back in England, so he was surprised to say the least.

Aris stopped walking and looked up at Newt. He had a frown over his lips with his eyebrows tightly knitted together. “Stop trying to play nice, okay? My dad is gonna realise that having you and your mum around is a bad idea and ship you off back home. He’ll realise soon, okay? so, just. . . Please, stop.”

Aris didn’t sound angry. Well only a bit, but he sounded more hurt and upset than angry, which made Newt wonder what on earth had happened to him and his dad before they moved?

The tall blond stood in silence, unsure of what to say, as he watched Aris trudge off into the school gates and walk up to a group of people. Newt wanted to grab him by the ears, sit him down and just talk to him civilally. He wanted to know everything, but he knew that if Aris wasn’t gonna look at him, then he sure as hell wouldn’t plan on opening up anytime soon. Luckily, Newt knew how persistent he was, so he was gonna make sure to keep prodding at Aris until he said something or just exploded with rage; anything would be fitting at this point.

Letting out a huff, Newt straightened out his leather jacket before carefully running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair and slowly made his way into his new school. Usually, that was all it took to make girls swoon (a quick hair fix up and a basic jacket), but here the girls swooned at the simple sound of his voice, which Newt found highly entertaining. Of course he wouldn’t take advantage of his new catch, as he had decided that he was gonna start fresh in America. As in, less sex with strangers, less going out and getting trashed, no more hard drugs, and more self care so when he found himself in an emotional slump, he wouldn’t feel tempted to turn to those old habits again.

“Morning, beanstalk.” A voice cooed, snapping Newt from out of his trance.

Turning his gaze, he was met with the sight of his new friends. Well, he considered them his new friends. They were all huddled under a group of trees right beside the gate; Teresa was smiling brightly at him, Fry was chatting with Minho and Brenda and Thomas just acknowledged Newt with a quick look, before he bowed his head.

“Hey, guys. How are ya?” No one was really listening but Teresa and Thomas, and Newt was okay with that.

“Decent.” Teresa said smiling brightly, pulling out a cigarette. Newt drooled at the sight. He hadn’t had a good smoke in what felt like years. “We’re dropping out of our first periods because P.E. and math are hell. Ya wanna join?”

For a moment there, Newt was almost nodding, before he managed to stop himself and shake his head ‘no’. He was leaving all of his old bad habits behind.

“I can’t. My mum will kick my ass.” She wouldn’t. She was the sweetest woman Newt had ever met, even when she found out that he wasn’t going to school and instead hung out with friends and smoked ‘til his throat was bare dry, she just sighed, said how disappointed she was before kissing him on the cheek softly.

“Oh. Well maybe we can hang out in the weekends then, Mister do-gooder. You can invite Aris too.” Teresa hummed, throwing a glance Thomas’ way at the mention of Aris, causing the boy to blush.

“Yeah. . .” Newt nodded stiffly, clearing his throat softly and listening as everyone went back to their conversations even talking right over the bell.

 

Thomas and Teresa had decided that they were both just going to go back to Thomas’ house and relax there for a while, maybe finish some homework, maybe go pick up breakfast on the way. It became a ‘thing’ for them. Not only for Teresa and Thomas, though today it was just them, but some of the group would skip a few periods to make up for the time they missed together during the weekends. Thomas wasn’t sure what it was about his group of friends, but they all relied on each other heavily and for a lot, too.

“God, Tom. Who’s gonna wanna fuck you when you’ve got all this shit hanging up?” Teresa laughed, dropping her bag at the door of his bedroom and throwing herself onto his bed, letting out a loud and long sigh of content.  
She was referring to the space and NASA posters he had hung up on his walls and even on his roof. But her complaining was nothing new, so the boy just shook his head and laid down next to her.

“The last guy I brought to my room and fucked, didn’t mind actually. He said that he quite liked my posters― said it was cute.” Thomas said, sounding rather pleased with himself.

“Guys know exactly what to say if it means they can get sex from it, babe.”

“Uh, that’s generalising, babe.” 

Without a single word, Teresa rolled over to face the boy and raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I really generalising or just telling the truth, Tom? Really?”

“Shut up.” Thomas mumbled before letting out a laugh. He wasn’t sure what the hell was so funny, but he just couldn’t contain himself. It was probably from the hours of sleep he’d been missing out on over the past few days.

The pair shared a few more laughs, before falling silent. They were both staring up at Thomas’ ceiling which was littered in cheap, plastic, glow in the dark stars he’d had for years. It was a comfortable silence, but he didn’t like it because it left him time to think and Thomas hated thinking. Thinking lead to overthinking and overthinking lead to panic and panic lead to Thomas doing something dumb.

“I don’t think I have a chance with Aris.” Thomas spoke up.

Teresa didn’t say anything, so Thomas rolled over and faced her. She had her eyes closed, and Thomas was sure that she’d closed them when she heard him shuffling around on the bed to face her, pretending to sleep so she wouldn’t have to say anything because Thomas was right.

“Resa. . .”

He let out a sigh and lay on his back again.

He didn’t want to go back to school.


	4. I Want To Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit choppy, sorry!

Staring at the poster that was hung on his wall, Thomas let out a huff. He didn’t end up going to school, even though he knows that he should’ve gone with Teresa. Thomas didn’t know how he was going to explain his absence from school to his mother, who was bound to stop by home for her lunch time break. Maybe he could conjure up some story about him falling ill and leaving the school because he was just oh so sick that he couldn’t stay at school, yet he could walk himself home. . . His mother wouldn’t believe it at all. Of course she wouldn’t. She was the smartest women Thomas knew⎯ hell, she could probably outsmart the smartest person in the world. Not to mention that she could read Thomas like an open book.

Another huff left the boy, as he turned his back to the wall on which the poster was actually hung up on. Thomas knew that poster like the back of his hand; he knew every poster that was hung up around his room like the back of his hand. He could probably draw all of them perfectly with his eyes closed. The one he was just staring at was is favourite poster by far. It had the words ‘I WANT TO BELIEVE’ at the bottom of it in white, with a ufo hovering above it and the silhouetted horizon of trees and mountains.

Usually, Thomas would stare at that poster until he fell asleep and had wild, exuberant dreams of the stars and aliens. Or sometimes, he wouldn’t dream anything at all, which was too boring for his tastes. Thomas loved the fantasy of meeting aliens or being able to float around freely in space, nothing restricting him, no rules, no one to tell him what to do or say or think. Just himself and the stars. Well, maybe Minho and a few of his other friends, but that’s about it. Thomas knew that nothing like that could ever or would ever happen, which is what made dreaming so much fun.

He was grateful for his wild imagination and his passionate love for space.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the planet the was on now. Of course not. But just sometimes there were moments where it seemed easier to dream of anywhere else but earth. Like when Thomas saw the news and the monstrous people that killed others without the blink of an eye. Or when he did something wrong- very, very wrong, and it would be a lot easier to float amongst the stars instead of having to face his embarrassment. But there were times of course where Thomas felt as if he really belonged on earth. Like all the times that he was laughing with his friends, having a good time and staying up ‘til unruly hours of the night listening to music, drinking and getting high. Or the times when he was spending the night with someone, fucking so passionately he couldn’t breathe, yet continued to cry out for more.

Unfortunately, this was one of the times where Thomas would’ve found it easier to hide away in the stars, than to face his mother.

“I got a call that you weren’t in school. Wanna explain there, Mister I skip school whenever I feel like it.” 

Thomas sat up slowly and shyly looked at his mother. She had her thin lips pulled into a tight line, her eyes tired. She was always tired. Strands of her hair were falling past her face, but she seemed the least bit bothered.

“I . . . Uh. . .” Thomas forced out a very weak cough, which sounded more like a tired wheeze. “I felt sick. . .”

“You can’t lie to save your life.” His mother sighed, combing her fingers through her knotted locks. “No point in going to school anyways, so you may as well do something like clean your room or take those tacky posters down.”

A frown made its way over Thomas’ face.

“What? I can’t take these down, ma. I’ve had them for so long-”

“Just do something, okay?” His mother, too tired to argue, turned on her heels sluggishly and made her way out of his room. But not after she had stopped and turned to look at Thomas from over her shoulder. “I love you.”

Before Thomas could say anything, his mother was already downstairs doing god knows what, leaving him to question whether he should really take down his posters or not. He felt silly now. Were they really tacky? Thomas didn’t think so, but rather on the contrary; he thought that they made his room a true wonderland, covered from wall to floor in something that you could easily get lost in, not to mention how important those posters are to him.

He would never take them down. His mother couldn’t make him. His friends. Hell, even if jesus christ himself waltzed in through Thomas’ room and told him to take down the posters, he sure as hell wouldn’t.

They meant a lot to him. Probably a bit too much because they were only pieces of paper that were probably meaningless to others, but held all of Thomas’ childhood and reason to just keep believing in something bigger than just himself.

 

“God, people are shitty.”

Minho grunted as he sat down next to Thomas, throwing his bag at the decaying tree trunk. He looked angry, as if steam was going to burst out of his ears at any second now. Thomas could see that he was clenching and unclenching his jaw, just to keep his cool, which Thomas could tell he was also struggling with.

“What happened, man?” Frypan sat up from his comfortable position of being sprawled over the grass, basking in the sun, to stare at Minho with concern.

To say he had a soft spot for his friends would be an understatement.

Frypan was one of Thomas’ closest friends, even though they’d only met a year ago. When the pair met, they just. . . Clicked. They got each other’s humour, but could also sit down for hours and just talk about anything, especially the stars; Fry talked about the stars with glassy eyes and a glint of awe, with a small smile over his lips. Though, he like the stars because it reminded him of his younger sister, but after meeting Thomas, he said that he now dreams of floating amongst the stars, his sister’s hand in his own.

“Some dick found out that I’m not all for just one partner, y’know? Poly. And oh boy, did he have a lot to say.” Minho picked up a stick and started breaking it, obviously trying to find some way to vent his anger. “He kept saying that it wasn’t natural and that it’s gross that I go out with both girls and boys, too!”

“He’s probably just jealous that you can pull more than him.” Frypan said with a bright smile, causing Minho to look up at him, a fond smile creeping over his lips.

Thomas let out a stiff laugh, but pitied Minho. He knew that the boy took those comments with a grain of salt, but it still angered not only Minho, but Thomas and his friends, too. It was only when Minho came out and actually started dating, that people were at his throat, as if it were their business. 

“I gotta go with Fry on this one, Minho.” Thomas nodded at the boy.

“Gotta go with Fry on what?” 

Thomas glanced up and over his shoulder, only to spot Brenda and Newt walking together, a smirk over Brenda’s lips. She had either done something or was about to do something that would get not only her, but undoubtedly her group of friends into trouble.

“Just some dickhead makin’ fun of Minho, again.” Frypan chimed.

“I’ll fucking kick their ass. Who was it?”

Without speaking, Newt sat next to Thomas, a large, black folder tucked under his arm. Blocking out the loud voices of his friends, Thomas stared down at the folder, his curiosity always getting the best of him. It was covered in dots of paint. Blues, yellows, reds, purples, whites, with Newt’s name written neatly at the bottom left corner. Newton Ross, it read.

“It’s for art.” Newt’s voice was soft and cracked as he spoke, noticing Thomas’ blatant staring.

Without saying anything more, Newt held the folder out and opened it, earning himself a gasp from Thomas. It was sketches and small paintings, all of them unique and beautiful. So beautiful that Thomas was quite literally gaping at the pages, reaching his hand out to turn the pages, only to result in even more soft gasps of awe.

From the looks of it, Newt drew landscapes so well Thomas could swear that they were just photographs; each picture was rich in colour and detail. From the smallest detail of a flower’s lilac coloured petal, to the heavy grey clouds that loomed in the sky, the detail was all there. It took Thomas’ breath right away.

And for the first time in a long time, Thomas really appreciated the planet he was stuck on.


	5. Frida Kahlo-Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda just drabble & cute interactions

There was something in the way that Thomas stared down at that art folder, that made Newt’s heart flutter. Not very many people complimented his works, not that he showed many people anyways. The mere thought of putting his art pieces on display made his stomach lurch, even though he was fully confident that his works were pretty decent. Newt always expected someone to criticise his art because that’s just how people work, right? People throw judgements around and accept the judgement that has been thrown their way. But Newt wasn’t so good at that whole accepting the judgement part, though, he was pretty great at judging others.

So, when Thomas gaped down at his book, his eyes lit up, as his fingers ever so softly, almost feather-like, glided over his works, as if he could almost feel what Newt was trying to portray, Newt was in shock. Complete and utter, jaw dropping shock. He was expecting Thomas to just look at him, then glance down at the folder, and then carry on with his conversation; not to stop everything, press himself right against Newt’s side, so closely that their cheeks were almost squashed together, and to take in each little scribble and water painted piece as if it were something completely new to him.

For some reason, Newt was also pretty shocked that Thomas enjoyed these landscapes, when he seemed far more intrigued by the stars and space, hence him lamely muttering ‘spaceboy’ when they first met. Maybe Newt was just that good, or maybe Thomas was just trying to be nice. Either way, Newt was shocked.

Even as he was sat in his new art class, with Brenda by his side, Newt was still shocked at Thomas’ reaction. Fortunately, it encouraged him so he could earn more looks of awe from the pretty space boy.

“―I’m thinking of doing something Frida Kahlo like, yknow? I mean I’m shit at self portraits, but I can always try.” Brenda babbled on, flipping through the pages of some art book their teacher had left her to get ideas off. 

“It doesn’t have to be a self portrait. You could paint one of your friends― Teresa, even.” Newt chimed in, causing her to look up at him, her eyes lit up as a smile crossed her lips.

“You’re a genius, Beanstalk!” The short haired girl had never looked so happy before, her voice an octave higher as she spoke with enthusiasm. “I could give it to her for our anniversary!”

For a second, Newt envied Brenda and the fact that she was so in love with Teresa. He wanted to be like that with someone, without it being purely a sexual relationship or unrequited. Unfortunately, Newt had missed many opportunities to be in a relationship, but his old, horrible habits got in the way every damn time; the alcohol, his non-stop lust for sex and the drugs made being with someone ten times harder than it should’ve been. He played people and lead people on, without even realising it.

But once that feeling had passed, he felt a surge of happiness for the pair. They put their everything into this relationship, well it seemed, so what they got from it, they deserved and Newt had no right to feel bitter or let his old ways turn him against what they have.

With a soft smile, Newt asked, “How long have you two been together?”

“Oh, boy. Now that’s a long story.” Brenda let out a gruff laugh, sinking back into the plastic chair, before throwing her feet onto the table top. “We met when we were fourteen. We’d been crushing on each other for ages and then as soon as we were together, we broke up a week later. We were really on and off, but the older we got the more mature we got, too, as did our relationship.”

Newt nodded, wanting to hear every detail, even though he knew that Brenda wouldn’t give away much.

“Teresa likes to count the first day we met as our anniversary-wedding type date.”

“Wedding?”

“We wanna get married once school finishes. Yeah. . .” Brenda nodded.

Newt was lost for words. He wasn’t sure where he stood for marriage, especially when it came to younger couples, but then again, his opinion wouldn’t matter. Brenda and Teresa both seemed stubborn and made sure that they always got what they wanted, no matter what anybody said or did to try and stop them. Minho told Newt that people going against what they want, just fuelled their want even more and Minho didn’t seem too far off.

“Congrats.” Newt said, before turning his head down to his notebook.

Already people seemed to have their life in order and knew exactly what they wanted and how they were gonna get there. Whilst Newt was stuck still trying to figure out what he was going to have for dinner later that night. It worried him that he was going to leave school having no idea what he wanted to do, whether university was a choice for him or not.

He didn’t wanna be a bum and live off his mum for the rest of his life, though, his mother would probably be very content with the idea of Newt living her until she passed. Newt didn’t want that. He wanted to be independent, doing a job he loved with a boyfriend or girlfriend to come home to.

That was it.

But with how things were going now, that seemed like a long shot.

“We’re hanging out after school. Ya coming. Newt?” Brenda spoke up. Newt snapped his head up to her and nodded, a bit surprised, but eager nonetheless. 

Hanging out with Brenda and her friends became Newt’s distraction from thinking about his past and somewhat terrifying future.

 

They were high. Every single one of them.

Newt could smell the weed before he had even seen any of his new friends and to say he was tempted, was an understatement. God, Newt wanted to badly to sit with them on the couch in Teresa’s lounge and get ridiculously high. So high he couldn’t feel anything but pure bliss. But he knew that touching anything like drugs or alcohol again would send him back to the old habits he loathed.

So, biting his lip, Newt sat on a lazyboy that was in the corner of the room, watching over his new friends. Teresa had welcomed him with a sloppy kiss on the cheek, but waltzed off somewhere with Brenda, leaving Newt with the boys.

Music, coming from god knows where, broke the silence in between the boy’s softened chatter.

Minho was comfortably sprawled out on a couch on the other side of the room, with Frypan sitting on his legs. They both seemed comfy with their awkward positions on the couch and atop each other, with Thomas nowhere to be seen which made Newt frown. He wanted to talk to the boy more.

“Hey, uh, where’s Tommy?” For some reason, Newt felt embarrassed to ask his high friends where he was.

“Kitchen.” Frypan slurred, before turning to Minho and laughing loudly.

Without another word, Newt stood up from the recliner and made his way into the kitchen where he was greeted with the most heavenly sight he thinks he’d ever seen; Thomas drunkenly moving around the kitchen, his head bobbing as he hummed to himself softly. He was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, with locks of sweaty, brunette hair sitting at his ears.

It was a heavenly sight to behold and Newt took a few moments just to gape at Thomas.

“Newt! You’re here!” Thomas must’ve caught him staring, as he hollered at Newt. “Here, take this to Teresa.”

He thrusted a bowl of unpopped corn kernels into his chest, causing Newt to let out a huff of amusement.

“Tommy, if this is meant to be popcorn, it sure as hell ain’t popped.”

Looking at Newt with confusion, Thomas let out a cackle when he realised what he had done. He felt silly for forgetting to pop the fucking POPcorn.

“Ah, fuck! I knew I was forgetting something!” The shorter boy yanked the bowl back, walked over to the microwave and threw the bowl in before dialing in some numbers, which Newt was sure Thomas had no idea of.

With a smile, Thomas spun on his heels to face Newt.

Newt had never seem the boy so carefree or happy before, though he guessed that it was probably just the drugs or alcohol.

“You high, Tommy?”

“A wee bit tipsy, but certainly not high.” Thomas replied, hopping up onto the countertop across from Newt, lolling his head to his shoulder and smiling dopily at the Brit.

There was a moment of silence between the pair, as Minho and Frypan let out muffled laughter in the next room over. Thomas was smiling at Newt and as much as Newt adored sober Thomas, he would love it if Thomas was always this happy to see him or just this carefree in general, but from what Newt had seen, Thomas was pretty quiet and awkward.

“Your art. Yesterday. It was beautiful. Have you ever painted the stars before?” Thomas let out a deep breath, as if he was holding back from asking Newt such a thing.

“No. . . But I can if you want.” 

Newt felt his heart flutter again and he rather liked this feeling he got whenever Thomas complimented him.

“Can you do it of me and the stars? Yknow, like floating with the stars? I’ll pay you or something.” Thomas mumbled, his attention now caught by the humming microwave.

“Yeah, sure, but please don’t pay me.” Newt leaned against cupboards, his head lolling onto the wooden cupboard door.

Turning his attention back to Newt, Thomas smiled even brighter. “I’ll send you a picture of some poses, okay? I’ve been practicing ‘em for when I do get to float with the stars! Ya wanna see?”

Deciding that to take advantage of carefree Thomas, Newt nodded and sent him a tight lipped smile. This prompted the boy to slip off the bench and stand in the middle of the kitchen and throw his arms out, as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Of course, Thomas had no idea how ridiculous he looked and Newt wasn’t planning on spoiling their fun either, by saying.

So, Newt watched as Thomas posed for him, making sure to remind Newt to paint his good side and to choose the better pose that would fit the picture. Sure, Newt had other things to paint and sketch, but he decided that a portrait of Thomas in space was much more important.

He was going to put Space Boy exactly where he belonged.

With the stars.

Outerspace.


	6. Kinda Cute

It started off as a dull throbbing behind his eyes, before Thomas felt the full effects of the previous night, when the back of his head started pounding with a pain that brought tears to his eyes. It felt as if someone had struck him across the head with a hammer and left his poor, drunken body to wither away. Sure, Thomas had dealt with hangovers before, some not nearly as bad as this― nothing was as bad as this. Hell, even the morning after his worst nights didn't compare to this; the nights where he would drink as much as he could, throw it all up, smoke or eat whatever was placed in front of him, let whoever breathed a meter within his personal bubble fuck him, before he would repeat it again the next hour, until he passed out somewhere with someone he wouldn't remember in the morning.

Thomas couldn't open his eyes. He didn't even try to, anyways. God, even moving from the awkward position of his arms tucked under his head and his legs all tangled up in some knot, Thomas could never do sober, hurt to think about.

On top of that, Thomas felt beads of sweat roll off his skin and seep into the mattress, as a lurching, twisting feeling erupted in the pit of his stomach. Thomas knew exactly what that meant, but he swallowed it down. Not now, he thought to himself with a groan.

Thomas needed water and food, but just thinking about eating or drinking anything just increased the lurching and twisting feeling in his tummy. He needed it, but he couldn't force himself to open his eyes, let alone eat, so that was well off the table right now.

"The glorious groan of a sleeping beauty finally awakening from her peaceful slumber!" Frypan chuckled to himself, as he waltzed into the room Thomas was in, pulling the curtains wide open and sitting on the bed next to Thomas. Fry cupped Thomas' cheek and let out a soft sigh. "You gotta slow down on the drinks and stuff, Thomas. You look like shit."

"I feel like shit, too. . . My head. . . It hurts so much." Thomas grunted out, his voice raspy.

"That would be my fault." Fry gave Thomas a dopey smile, awkwardly scratching behind his head. "I may or may not have dropped you a lot when I was tucking you in, but you were so slippery and stuff it just kinda happened. . ."

Slowly opening his eyes, Thomas winced and closed them again. It was far too bright for his eyes. But, he did manage to stiffly shuffle around and position himself so he was leaning on his elbows, nestled in the bunches of pillows. His body was screaming at him to sleep the day away and ignore his friends, but he was curious as to what dumb things he'd done the night before.

"Slippery? Frypan. . . What the fuck happened last night?"

"You're gonna have to ask Newt, but all I saw was you hugging the poor boy in the kitchen, boo hooing over that Aris kid. Then, the next time I saw you, you were skinny dipping in the pool with Brenda. And that-" Frypan pointed to the back of his own head, indicating Thomas' own. "Is because you fell over in the kitchen. Slippery tiles. Also, because I kept dropping you― on accident, of course."

Feeling a heat rise in his cheeks, memories of last night hit Thomas like a truck. 

He remembers exactly what he was 'boo hooing' over. It was over the fact that he and Aris would never be a pair. Not ever. Not even a chance. Not even a silly little fling or one night stand. Thomas had accepted that. Well, he thought he had. Maybe it was just the sober him that had, with drunk him still latching onto something that could never be and dwelling on that all night.

That's what he hazily remembers before he pushed his lips against Newt's. It only lasted for a few sweet seconds, before Newt pulled away and very gently reminded Thomas that he was drunk and that if he they wanted to kiss more, he'd have to be sober. Thomas had no idea what came over him to want to kiss Newt; he didn't even know if he liked him as a friend or not, let alone whether if he wanted to kiss him or not. Though, Thomas had spent several drunken nights with people he doesn't like sober, or ever know. So, he didn't really dwell on that memory too much.

And the skinny dipping. Oh god, the skinny dipping.

"I'm such a dumbass."

"Gotta agree with you on that one." The boy laughed and ruffled Thomas' sweaty hair, knowing how much it irked him. "Now, get out of bed. I made a mean fry-up that'll be gone before you can even blink."

Frypan's confidence made Thomas smile a bit, but the lurching in his stomach made the boy want to cry. As much as Thomas would kill for Frypan's special fry-up, he just couldn't bring himself to think of it, as his stomach twisted and grumbled.

He swallowed it down, but it left a putrid taste in his mouth.

"I can't." Thomas managed weakly, before he curled up into a much more comfortable sleeping position.

"Alright, man. Try to sleep it off and I'll make sure to save you some." 

Frypan always made sure to look after Thomas and Thomas always made sure to take care of Frypan. It was like they had some kind of mutual, brotherly agreement and honestly, they were both beyond content with it― whatever 'it' was. Hell, even if they were both sick, they'd still make sure that they were being looked after by each other. It was comforting for Thomas to have that one friend he knew he could rely on for support and care. Not that his other friends weren't good at that, it was just different with him and Fry. Though, Minho liked to claim that he had a special connection to them both, which he would then add onto by saying that he has a special connection to everyone of his friends.

"Thank you."

 

Staring down at his empty plate, Newt listened as his friends went on about last night and how much they enjoyed it. Unfortunately, Newt wasn't exactly sure how he felt about his night because he hadn't had a touch of alcohol or drugs in months and hell was it tempting. But none of them knew, so they wouldn't have been able to stop him from doing so anyways. So, without anyone knowing, Newt could've easily snagged a bottle of vodka and downed it, before taking whatever the hell else he could get his grubby fingers on, without anyone telling him no.

Newt almost gave in, especially when he could taste the lingering alcohol on Thomas' tongue when they kissed.

It was an unexpected kiss, that's for sure. Thomas, as if it were no big deal after sobbing his eyes out about Newt's step brother, leaned forward and kissed Newt. For a moment, Newt wanted to get drunk and continue the kiss, but he knew that would be wrong and going against the months of hard work he'd put in to stay sober and sex-free. Also, he wasn't even sure if Thomas liked him, so he didn't want to take any chances.

If Thomas really wanted to kiss him, he would do it sober and Newt had to remind himself of that.

He wasn't holding his breath, though.

"Pretty quiet over there. You alright, Newt?"

Newt hummed, but kept his head low. He'd gotten barely any sleep, his urges almost getting the best of him and not to mention the fact that his friends weren't asleep until late in the early morning. So, Newt had to suffer the long, sober hours on a lazy boy, comforting the cute boy that kind of, but also doesn't really have a crush on his step-brother, before then having to soberly clean up when someone made a mess. It was a nightmare and honestly, Newt didn't want to do it again.

"Just thinkin'."

"Oh, yeah," Brenda took his plate and waltzed off into the kitchen, her and Minho on clean up duty. "About what?"

"Things. . ." Newt didn't want to tell them about the awful, yet confusing night he'd had, when they were over the moon at how theirs all went. He didn't want to be the downer, like he used to be.

Brenda then moved from the kitchen to sit next to him at the round dinner table, with a roll of her eyes and a huff. "So, you're not gonna tell us then, huh?. . . Okay, then. How about you tell us about what you were like before you came to the good ole US-of-A, since we barely know anything."

"Uhm, well I wasn't a good kid or anything back in England. I drank a lot, I did a lot of hard drugs and I slept with a lot of people. Like, a lot. I failed school and had to re-take my last year." Newt admitted with zero shame, not that he was proud. He just knew that they were gonna find out one day, so may as well let them know before they found out through someone else. "That's why I'm still at high school."

"Hey, I'm retaking this year, too!" Brenda said with a laugh, as if that's all she heard from what Newt had given them.

Slapping Brenda lightly on her bicep, Teresa shook her head and smiled sympathetically at Newt. "Sounds shitty. I'm sorry, babe. But hey, least this is a nice fresh start, right? I didn't see you drinking at all last night."

Newt shook his head and sent her a tight lipped smile, feeling Frypan pat his back a few times before continuing to shovel down the remainder of his breakfast. 

"You ever slept with guys before, Newt? I mean, British boys are kinda cute." A voice chirped from the kitchen, causing everyone but Teresa and Newt to hum in agreement. Minho only really getting a roll of her eyes from Teresa, who sat looking very annoyed in everyone.

"I have yes. Plenty. But I don't wanna do that anymore. I wanna be in a proper relationship, yknow? Something meaningful and all that other bullshit." After saying that, Minho let out a wheeze and snort before returning to his job of clean up crew.

"A proper relationship, huh? Well, we can help you find someone! A real hottie, too." Brenda smiled widely, her grin already looking as if she was scheming something brilliant.

"We'll only help if you ask for it, though. Right, Brenda?" Teresa prompted.

The girl rolled her eyes and looked over at Teresa who had her eyebrows raised and arms folded.

"Yeah, sure." Brenda huffed.

Newt nodded at the pair and smiled tightly. He wasn't sure whether he'd ever use them for help, but he probably needed it; the last and first proper relationship he was in was messy and over in less than a month. So, he was on the fence, but he didn't feel like he'd be getting into a relationship anytime soon, anyways.

Then, a realisation struck Newt.

"Hey, where's Tommy― Thomas, I mean?" Newt chimed, wondering where he'd got to, whether he was still even at Teresa's or not.

"Ah," Fry hummed. "Yeah, he's passed out in a spare room. He was hammered last night."

Thomas was far past gone last night and Newt had to watch a majority of his dumb actions take place, which, admittedly, was rather entertaining. Though, as funny as Thomas' attempts to show off poses and dance to whatever came on, Newt did almost have a panic attack when the boy ran into the house and slipped over on the tiles; he was picking him up seconds after he'd hit the ground and let out a loud yelp of pain.

That was rather scary and not even close to funny.

Newt let out a sigh. "Yeah. He was."


	7. Beating Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for my lack of updates and terrible chapters. I temporarily lost motivation to write this fic, even thinking about it put me in a mood. But I finally managed to get this out which will hopefully be the push I needed.

Purples, pinks and other soft colors were all swirled onto the page. 

None of the colours were perfect. It felt as if they were missing just that small hint of white or blue, but the second Newt added it in, the smallest amount of either colour, he'd ruined the colour completely. Maybe he was just being picky and fussy, or maybe the colour was actually wrong (if there was ever such a thing as a wrong colour), but whatever it was, it was pissing the poor boy off.

He'd been slumped over his desk for the past two hours fussing about over colours, slowly driving himself mad and emptying his paints. Newt's back and neck ached, so he leaned back in his seat, twisting his head as far as he could over each shoulder, before leaning over backwards in his seat, stretching his arms above his head. A loud sigh left his lips as he abandoned his art work, which was seemingly going nowhere. Or well, not the way he wanted.

Getting up from that uncomfortable wooden seat that creaked and whined under his weight, he glanced around his room for something else to do; he’d already unpacked the boxes of his things (the things he’d have much rather left behind), he’d been around the block more times than he could count, he’d been into town, where he ultimately ended up getting lost, having a panic attack on the side of street and almost burst into tears the second he had spotted his mother, who had come the rescue. 

So, finding nothing to do, Newt checked his phone.

It had been ringing like crazy, before Newt decided it was a good idea to silence it after his Aris glared at him when he passed Newt’s room.

Brenda, Minho and Teresa had been bombarding him with numbers and profiles of girls and boys that they deemed ‘hotties’, even after telling them that he had no plans to hook up with anyone anytime soon, unless if it was because he was in a proper relationship. Something real— which he knew wouldn’t happen. Not for awhile. But according to his new friends, every single person they’d sent to Newt as prospects for a future partner, quite liked him.

Newt knew what ‘quite liked’ meant.

It meant, ‘if we fucked, i probably wouldn’t ignore you at school and maybe ask for another quickie if we met at a party again’.

Newt had quite liked many, many, MANY people.

He dropped his phone onto his nightstand and let out another sigh, before tucking himself into bed, forgetting that he was still covered in paint. Newt knew that he should tell his friends to stop, but oh god was he getting desperate. The only person Newt had even gotten remotely close to hooking up with, since being america for almost two months, was when he and Thomas kissed. But that was it. Hell, in a month Newt could gather a higher body count than some of his friends put together, but he enjoyed it and kind of missed it too. 

Swearing to wait for someone who was just ‘right’, before having sex, was proving a challenge, especially when his friends kept tempting him with each and every message they sent.

No. Beat the temptation, Newt. You’re better than that. You didn’t call this a fresh start for nothing. He tried to pep himself up, but that too was proving a challenge, since now all he was left with was porn, his right hand and lube (if he could be bothered).

Trying to distract himself, Newt turned on his bed to face his art desk, trying to come up with how to complete this piece without it turning to shit.

It was the piece that Thomas had requested and Newt very happily agreed to do. And of course, Newt wanted nothing more than to impress his new friend, so he wouldn’t have to find more and maybe even score a kiss (one that he craved a lot more than he would’ve liked to admit) from the boy. But nothing seemed to work; the purples? They were all a few shades off perfection. The stars? Stars, if you could even call them that, were only soft white dots he’d made with the tip of his brush, but his paint was too watery and dribbled down the page. So, whilst Newt was frantically trying to paint over the trails of white paint with the off purple, he was also mixing that purple even more. The further away from perfection it got.

Everything looked a mess.

All, but the outline he’d managed to perfect of Thomas. It was going to play as a silhouette, something very basic looking for a very basic, messy piece of art, but if he was going to get into Thomas’ good books, this felt like the only way— not that Newt had a problem with that. He was in fact quite flattered, too.

Someone, his space boy, gawked at his art. Even wanting a piece just for himself, which caused a burst of joy to flood over him.

He didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind at all.

 

 

“Thomas, you need to find better things to spend your money on. This whole space thing is getting out of hand.”

This was not Thomas’ first time listening to his mother berate him, as he minded his own business, scrolling through his pinterest for possible new clothing purchases. Like, shirts and jumpers with his favourite sayings, aliens, the stars, and even pretty little pieces of art; nothing that would bother anyone, especially not his mother.

“That’s probably the weirdest thing you’ve said to me all year— and you say a lot of weird things.” Those weird things being anything to do with a scolding that involved his simple love and passion for everything unearthly.

“No,” His mother shook her head, snatching his laptop off his lap.

“Hey! I was using that, ma!” Thomas whined, trying to snatch it back.

“No! You’re off to college next year and you haven’t applied for any one of them, you still haven’t gotten job to save up for when you do go to college!” She’d raised her voice, it wavering and cracking on certain words. She was tired. Beyond tired and Thomas knew that, but he didn’t ask for her to yell at him. Why would he? Especially about something he loved so much? “All you do is spend time getting pissed up with your friends, and yes I do know about that, you waste your money on shit that looks trashy! It looks trashy, Thomas, yet you still spend hundreds and hundreds of my money on it!”

Okay, so it was rude of him to waste his mum’s money, but she’d given him her card details and everything, saying he could use it whenever he wanted.

“You said I could use your card on whatever.” Thomas mumbled, letting out a childish huff.

“On important things, Thomas. And this,” She said, pointing to his laptop screen, which was displaying a small alien tattoo. One that Thomas would quite like to get someday soon. “This is not even near being important.”

“Ma-”

“I’m tired of you spending my money. . . So, I asked my boss if you could work with me. She said it would be good work experience.”

“What? No!”

Thomas stood up from the Lazy Boy so quickly he gave himself headrush. He stared down at his mother in disbelief. Like hell was he going to work with her in that cramped, stuffy office, with cramped, stuck up assholes.

“Thomas! Stop being so childish! Grow up and get a job like the rest of the people your age!”

Now she was standing, her cheeks a vibrant red, her hair a wild mess. 

They were both staring each other down.

“Fine,” Thomas was being childish and agreed that he should get a job, but of course he’d never admit that aloud. “But I am not working with you and those. . . Those idiots you call workmates.”

Out of relief maybe, his mother sucked in a deep breath and seemed to visibly calm down.

“Great. We can go out tomorrow—”

“Fine. But what I like, ma, isn’t childish or trashy. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

And with that, Thomas snatched back his laptop and stomped up to his room, scared for where tomorrow might land him.


End file.
